


Berniks the Mittened

by Roxanne_says_go_home



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Berniks is the Bernie Sanders mittens meme, Death, Eliksni, Gen, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I am so sorry, It's based off a Tumblr meme, One Shot, The Whirlwind (mentioned), dark themes, death of an elderly person, for a meme it's much too angsty, she/they Eramis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29001726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roxanne_says_go_home/pseuds/Roxanne_says_go_home
Summary: What can one do, when they are too old to move, to stop something so evil?
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3





	Berniks the Mittened

**Author's Note:**

> I need to update my Doom fic and instead I go and do this shit. Why.
> 
> This one shot is based on a meme picture edited by @simpinforcrow on Tumblr, and also by my friend Shadowtriad who, when I sent them the picture, said "BERNIKS, THE MITTENED" and I had an idea.
> 
> So basically it's all Shadowtriad's fault.
> 
> Also go read their fics, Blind Fury and Old Things, for more exquisite Eramis content. I cannot recommend them enough, although you do need a tissue box for Old Things.
> 
> For now, this is a one shot, but I might be convinced to make more. I dunno yet.
> 
> Trigger warnings are in the tags, folks. Let's get this show on the road.

Eramis plays with the Darkness, fractals of blue ice flickering and weaving between her clawed fingers. It dances, a miniature storm in her palm, glittering in Europa's cold starlight.

So little. So pretty. So powerful.

All _hers._

How can she lose, when she is so blessed with might and glory for her people?

"Very easily."

Eramis' control over the ice vanishes in her surprise. _Had they said that out loud?_ They turn to the voice behind them, blinking, their eyes readjusting to the dimness of the room.

"What do you mean, Elder?"

At the table, hunched against the cold in a small metal chair, is Elder Berniks, quietly observing the rotating red hologram of a Pyramid. "Very easily." He repeats himself, his ether breather wheezing in time with the rattle in his chest. A grunt. "You're arrogant, Eramis. I've warned you of this path many times, now."

They come up behind him, towering. "I'm not," she grumbles, petulant, "I know my strength—and my strength is great!"

The Elder sighs at her hands on his shoulders. Berniks 'the Mittened' is _old,_ even by Eliksni standards; he had already been ancient when Eramis was a hatchling, and now he was practically archaic. So many elderly Eliksni had perished in the Whirlwind that it was nothing short of a miracle that he had survived at all, nevermind survive _this long._ He had been such a steady, almost omnipresent figure in her life, and Eramis is glad that he still is.

"Your strength is great, yes. You have always been strong. But… Must you use such vile means for your people?" He gestures vaguely at the shard of Darkness upon her arm. "Must your methods mean the deaths of so many, when we already have so few?"

"But Elder—don't you see? The Darkness is our salvation! A few meaningless lives here and there, a few pawns—"

"That's what they said in the Whirlwind!" Berniks spits, coiling in fury, "When we were on the ships, escaping Riis, those who died getting those ships into orbit were called _meaningless! Acceptable losses!_ " He hacks a cough. Eramis' hands drift away from his shoulders, burning in guilt. Another cough, a deep, steadying sigh. "My children's lives were not meaningless," he whispers, now simply tired and oh so old. "My children's lives were not acceptable losses. No one's lives were acceptable losses, no one's life was meaningless… Was your Athrys an acceptable loss? Were your children's lives meaningless?"

The Kell rips herself away from him as if scorched. _"Don't."_

"Everyone will lose their own Athrys and their own children. All for your 'salvation'. I've seen what your 'salvation', that Stasis, can do, and I don't want any part of it."

She's still reeling from his jab at Athrys and the children. "Elder," they gasp, "please—"

"The Darkness is not salvation. It is another Whirlwind." The shard on her arm is crackling. Frost creeps over their gauntlet, in tune with their distress.

"I am once again asking you, Eramis," Berniks coughs more violently than before: spasms wracking his wizened frame, and her arms wrap around to support him. "I am asking once again, one last time… will you continue with the Darkness?"

They hold him tight, ice that isn't Stasis lacing through their veins as they feel his heart thump unsteadily against her through their armour. His hands have her forearms in a vice-like grip, needle claws prickling through her padded sleeves.

"I must." They murmur. The howling winds outside the window nearly drown them out. "I have to. I have come so far. So many believe. I can't back down, not now."

"... I see." A slow, rattling sigh. "I cannot stop you, child." His voice is faint. His milky eyes slide shut.

"... Elder?"

He is so very still in her grasp. She can only just see his chest move.

"Elder Berniks?"

_Ka-chink_ , as his ether breather ceases use.

_".... Grandfather?"_ They warble, voice high like a hatchling.

The silence says more than words ever could.

Eramis weeps.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I have nothing to say.
> 
> Please give kudos if you enjoyed, possibly subscribe if you are so inclined, and please p l e a s e leave a comment. People's reactions to my writing give me the serotonin I need to keep it up.
> 
> Thanks!


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